


My peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake

by Sunnyhoney



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3b, 3x21, Anxiety Attacks, Baker Stiles Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e21 The Fox and the Wolf, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Get Together, M/M, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune Trauma, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Season 3, Sharing a Bed, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Work In Progress, post 3b
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnyhoney/pseuds/Sunnyhoney
Summary: The action follows 3x21.Derek is determined to save Stiles from the Nogitsune. But killing it is not the end. Stiles suffers from really bad PTSD and anxiety and really needs someone to help him through it.TW: Panic attacks
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 19





	My peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake

The atmosphere in the animal clinic is incredibly tense. For the past year, they’d found themselves in this place every time something had gone wrong. The walls had been filled with stress, pain, anger and grief. They had been put back together, brought back to life and healed on the cold metal operating table and they came here filled with hope.

This time is different. It‘s not a werewolf hurt in a fight, not a meeting to go to war again or to find out more about the monsters hiding behind the trees of Beacon Hills forest.

This time it’s Stiles. The brain and heart of their pack, the bond holding them together. The ever so vulnerable human.  
And so the room is filled with despair, pain and self-loathing as the one person they should have protected has fallen to the hands of an evil worse than they have ever encountered before.

-The spirit is deeply tied to Stiles' mind. This is how he uses and manipulates him. This can be turned against him. A strong bond with the Nogitsune’s host could break the possession for a short moment, if someone could reach out to Stiles, he could fight back and push it out of his body. He has the power to expel the demon but has to be made aware of it. Someone with a deep connection, someone who would touch the very human side of him could do just that.

Scott shook his head.The lack of sleep and the guilt has burned a hole into him and he no longer has any emotion to express, he can’t think properly or make up any plan to save his best friend, his brother.

\- We've already tried this. It’s like he doesn’t even recognize me….And I’m pretty sure I’m Stiles closest friend.  
\- You were …  
Scott’s head snaps back to face Isaac. His eyes flash red, anger and pain. Anger for how dare Isaac say this, and pain because deep down he knows it's the truth. He felt Stiles change a while ago and he sacrificed his friendship for what he thought was greater good. Isaac tries to apologise, softening the blow:

\- Look, Scott, I’m sorry but even before this, he was drifting away from everyone.

Deaton’s soothing voice tears Scott away from his self-loathing for a moment:

\- Everything that is happening at the moment is going on in Stiles mind. The bond is something truly personal, it doesn’t need to be someone close to him, it can be anyone that occupies some kind of space in his head and with whom he feels some kind of connection. It can be love but also anger, fear or pain.

\- So it could be anyone? That really helps...

Allison is exasperated, she hates feeling useless. She's not used to fighting something that's not physical. She wants to slice through this demon, make it bleed and cry out for help. Just like the rest of the pack she feels pathetic and lost. They fall silent and listen to the rain spatter on the windows.   
The past few weeks feel like an eternity and this entire time they’ve been walking in the dark. All they want is a little bit of light, Stiles laughter echoing again in the room, a tiny break, a bit of relief.

-If Stiles manages to expel the Spirit it will significantly weaken its powers. It will then look for another host, if one of the werewolf becomes its target that’s when Kira can use her blade and kill it. 

Deaton looks at them one by one, and once again feels overwhelmed by how young they are. Allison standing in front of him with her arms crossed, putting on a brave face, hiding behind her warrior persona. Scott, staring blankly at his shoes unable to focus or utter a word. Kira trying a calming hand on his shoulder while she looks like she’s on the verge of passing out from sleep deprivation. Lydia and Isaac,leaning on one another, Lydia’s eyes bloodshot and her mind racing for an overdue genius moment. Derek and his green eyes filled with trust, hope and expectations. Begging for a solution.  
Deaton takes a deep breath.

\- I trust you to figure it out. You’re his pack, you’ll find the way to bring him home.

***

A spark of electricity runs down the cut cables balancing against the brick walls. The Sheriff takes one look at his son from across the room. He can barely keep his eyes on him. The creature standing there is not his boy. A drop of cold sweat runs between his shoulder blades. The loft looks like a bomb site, and he can’t quite remember how they ended up here. He grits his teeth when the Nogitsune glares at him, a grimacing smile distorting his face.  
He can't help but let out the smallest of murmurs:

-I can’t lose you too …

Despite Chris and the pack standing besides him, looking into the void of Stiles eyes feels like the epitome of isolation  
He takes one step closer, his voice shaking:

\- Stiles, are you in there ?

A cold, sad laugh escapes the teen’s mouth, echoing against the bare walls.

-Really? What did you think? That he was gonna come running to you as soon as you said his name? That he could win the fight against a hundred years old spirit? You’re really underestimating me...that’s kinda sweet … and really stupid.

He paces around the loft, his words slow and guttural.

-We’ve been here for hours and you have not made one worthy attempt to kill me. This is getting tiring. I’m bored. I’m thinking maybe I should slit your boy’s throat so we can have a bit more fun….

He flexes his fingers unveiling a set of silver claws. He drags his index across his jaw, drawing vivid blood from Stiles pale skin.   
With a loud growl, Derek races across the room, slamming the Nogitsune against the windows. His eyes bright red, claws and teeth at the ready. His chest puffing with rage.

\- GET OUT OF HIM.

An Alpha order. Vibrating throughout the room, making his betas wince and whine. He grits his teeth, one hand wrapped around Stiles throat.  
But the Nogitsune is no Beta. He stares at Derek with disgust. Suddenly his hand closes on the back of the werewolf’s neck, bending his body backward at an awful angle. The alpha lets out a whimper, falling to his knees while the Nogitsune towers over him, his voice a murmur: 

\- You never learn, do you?

Across the room, the pack can hear the bones breaking in Derek’s body and the painful, heavy breaths he lets out. He is paralysed, unable to pull away from the silver claws slicing his spine.  
Chris’s gun is pointing right at Stiles' chest ready to shoot but John put his hand on the hunter's arm.

\- Please...Wait …  
The two fathers exchange a look.  
\- John, if we don’t shoot him now we might never have another opportunity.  
\- Please, Chris …

The demon takes his eyes off Derek to stare at the Sheriff and lets out a bitter laugh:

\- Oh come on! Please... Daddy, don’t you understand? You’ll never get your son back! He’s gone for good now!

The sight of his face is unbearable, mimicking Stiles expressions almost perfectly but there is no more sign of the teenager in this body.  
Derek is on his knees blood dripping from the hold on his neck and the sides of his mouth, his teeth clenched together from the pain, he whispers:

\- Stiles … Stiles I know you can hear me.  
\- Oh my fucking god! Just shut up already!

The Nogitsune grabs his shoulder with his free hand and kicks him violently in the stomach, he kicks until blood is everywhere, rushing from Derek’s mouth. Until he's out of breath and the expression on his face is pure evil. Once more he looks towards the pack:

\- See, daddy? 

His voice is overly sweet and full of irony.

-You better shoot me before I kill the person protecting this town, the one doing your job …

Chris looks at the Sheriff, whose hand still lays on the gun and then back at Derek again whose eyes are glued to Stiles.  
In that split moment before he doubled over in pain, something didn’t escape the werewolf’s senses. He swears. A twitch. A slight change in the heartbeat…  
Between two gasps for air, he tries again.

\- Stiles, I am right here okay. I’m not… gonna leave you …

And...there it is again.He sees it clearly now, the teen’s face distorted for half a second before the Nogitsune takes over again hitting him harder and harder. Derek is stubborn, and he keeps reaching for what strength he’s got left. The pain is nothing, he can keep it out of his mind. He stays focused, he doesn’t let any doubt get to him. Because if he stops and thinks too much, he knows that he might be wrong. He might not be able to save Stiles. He might even be making things up. He needs to believe, he needs to try. So he pushes himself to move and slowly he lifts one arm and reaches for Stiles hand. Holding it firmly against the Nogistune’s resistance even under the flood of kicks. He can see him freeze for a moment, letting Stiles appear. The rage and void in his eyes replaced by fear. The pungent scent of despair flooding the loft.

\- Stiles, Stiles! You have to hold him back, you have to fight! You can kick him out! Focus Stiles, Focus on me, okay?

His mouth hangs open and just as quickly, he’s gone. The Nogitsune shouts and bangs Derek’s head against the brick wall. He hears the stone cracking or maybe his skull? For a moment, he blacks out, when he opens his eyes again, the pack is getting closer. Encircling them. He sees Chris holding the gun firmly and his mind starts racing, how can he make Stiles regain control of his body? And he flashes back to those moments where he learnt to control his wolf. Where he learned to come back to his physical human body. And he knows what to do.

-His legs! Chris! Shoot his legs!

The bullet goes right through Stiles' shin. His body falls loudly on the floor and Derek rushes on top of him. He holds him back and once again reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers.

\- Stiles! Stiles talk to me!  
\- Derek ...

His face is overwhelmed with pain, he blinks , he doesn't understand what is happening, he looks lost and terrified.

\- We don’t have much time. Look at me. Focus on the pain, focus on me, ok? I know you can get him out of you, you have to do it, I know you’ve got what it takes. Stiles, you can overpower him, you can kick him out!

Stiles looks blankly at Derek and for a moment, the werewolf thinks he’s been tricked by the Nogitsune once again. But then Stiles closes his eyes, his face torn apart, horribly deformed, he holds Derek’s hands so tightly he’s probably breaking bones. For long minutes, he struggles, his nose begins to bleed, his eyes are revulsed, his body is convulsing and, suddenly shadows are filling the room like smoke. Derek feels Stiles' body going still and cold under his and the only thing he can see is a tiny dot of light flying up. He watches the spark go up in the air and knows instantly he needs to welcome it in.   
He feels a weird heat in his lungs, a tiny itch and then everything becomes suffocating darkness. He can’t hold his wolf back but before giving in entirely he shouts:

-Kira!

She instantly knows what she needs to do, she runs towards him, holding the silver blade firmly in her hand. The Nogistune takes control before Derek can see anything else but he hears the poignant scream of the fox and he sure feels the aching pain of the blade piercing his stomach.

***

-We need to do something.

Scott’s legs are thrown lazily over the armrest of the sofa. The pack has been meeting at the loft a lot since Derek spent an entire week redoing the place and turning into “a complete hipster warehouse” as Lydia puts it. They’ve been here every single day this week and it’s starting to feel normal. Isaac nods:

\- It’s been 3 weeks and he hasn’t been out of the house once.  
\- We left him space and time, he’s healed and now he needs to move on.

They all turn to Derek who’s staring blankly at Isaac’s feet on the coffee table, the beta removes them quickly, a slight embarrassed flush on his face. 

\- Ok.  
\- Okay?

Scott's eyes go wide.

\- You really don’t have to look at me like this everytime I do something nice...Yes, ok, I think that’s a good idea, it will help to take him out of the house and even if it doesn’t work, it won’t hurt anyone to focus on something else for one night.  
\- Does that mean you’re okay with us throwing the party here?  
\- Yes. But I don’t want to be involved in any way and I want the loft to be so clean the next day that my eyes will hurt from the shine, and if I find anyone in my room, I’m killing them.

Scott nods vigorously and Lydia starts jumping around, babbling about cocktails, music and putting up decorations and lights everywhere. Derek thinks he’s gonna regret being nice really quickly.  
So he disappears, he goes running through the woods, spends some time in the Hale house...as much as he loves having the pack around he hasn’t yet adjusted to being surrounded by people all the time.   
He needs a moment on his own. The cold and damp air of the forest in his lungs. The silence of the Hale house.  
The idea of having a bunch of teens living it up in the place he started calling home freaks him out a bit. He stays away until the night of the party.

When he comes back the loft is packed. He didn’t even think there were this many teenagers in Beacon Hill. Maybe the invitation was extended to the whole county?  
His place is unrecognizable. Half of it has been covered in sofas, cushions and curtains while the other is just a mass of sweaty bodies moving to the sound coming out of two massive amplifiers flanking a tiny DJ. It seemed he okayed a party and they threw a festival…  
His eyes scan the room and quickly finds him, sat on top of a weird cube, tipping a drink into his open mouth with Scott and Isaac cheering him on. Stiles swallows what seemed to be pure alcohol with a grimace then turns his head, meeting his eyes. He freezes for a second and then a large smile gets to his face, lighting up his eyes. Derek can’t help but respond in kind. He turns away, desperately looking for some peaceful corner somewhere in the loft. A moment after, a hand grabs his arm. Stiles nods towards the balcony.  
The fresh air is like a slap in their faces after the sticky heat of the inside.

\- How are you doing?  
\- I’m… I’m good. My leg is nearly healed and the doctor...  
\- I’m not talking about your leg, Stiles.

Derek’s voice can feel quite harsh sometimes. He rarely speaks but when he does he gets to the point without any embellishment. The awkward smile leaves Stiles face. He’s drunk and he can’t really hide his emotions. He also can’t stop moving. He shifts from one leg to the other, tangles his fingers in his hair, his hands shaking.

\- I… I’m okay. I am glad I’m alive you know. And everyone’s alright so …”

Derek stares at him blankly and the rest of his rambling gets stuck in his throat. The werewolf turns away, looking at the velvety blue night sky above the treetops. He breathes in and takes his chance:

\- Do you know why I was able to pull you out of the Nogitsune’s possession?

He gives Stiles a chance to reply but he just shakes his head. 

\- You chose me Stiles. Not Scott. Not your father. Not Lydia. Me. I have no idea why, but the fact is, we share something. And...werewolf or not, I know when you’re lying."

Stiles face flushes. He stays silent for a while before emotions starts bubbling up in his throat:

\- No, no… Don’t do this to me right now, I‘m fucking drunk and I don’t want to go this way because I might just explode or shatter into pieces. I cannot deal with that… I cannot think about it ... I just... I just want to forget about it all and get back to normal.

\- You can’t forget about it. You can’t act like nothing happened. If you don’t deal with it, it’s gonna destroy you from the inside. If the Nogitsune got to you in the first place, it’s because of everything you hold inside. He feeds on darkness, on sadness, on the things you don’t want to deal with and leave to rot in some corner of your mind.

\- Funny he got to you right after me, who knew you had a little darkness in you, Derek Hale.

Stiles smiles slightly and Derek can’t help but laugh a little.

\- Are you laughing at my jokes? Who are you? Man, maybe the Nogitsune left with the cynical, sour Derek Hale.

\- Maybe. Or maybe I’ve missed seeing you smile.

At those words the smile gets even bigger, Stiles’s insides feel all warm where it was dead cold for so long. Their eyes stay locked together for a few seconds and then Derek sits on the cement floor, waiting for Stiles to join him. He does so, sitting really close to him, their knees touching.

-You would think that redoing your place meant you would get some nice patio furniture for this balcony but no, you love a good industrial slab of cement…

Derek doesn’t reply. He lets him take a beat. He’s learned how Stiles function during difficult conversations. 

-You’re right. I’m not okay... How could I be, seriously?I nearly killed my best friend, I smashed your brains against a wall …

-That’s okay. I might have deserved it, I can be kind of an ass sometimes.

Stiles smiles briefly, his eyes shining imperceptibly.

-It's just ... I don’t know how to keep going. This whole time I was awake I saw everything...I don’t know if I can ever make up for what I did, I don’t know if I can live with that.

\- You didn’t do anything Stiles, you have to realize that. You’re not the nogitsune, none of this is your fault.

Two wet brown eyes look up at him.

\- I don’t know Derek, I‘m fucking lost. There were so many moments where I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. I wanted to do all those things. I could feel how much I wanted to hurt you or the others. It’s like even now I don’t control my own brain. I feel useless and alone and also really ashamed to be losing it in front of you … I … I’m sorry …

Stiles drops his head on his knees, his whole body shaking, tears rolling down his face. Derek can hear his heart bumping hard against his chest and it worries him. Slowly, he brushes Stiles arm with the tip of his fingers. At the touch, the teenager jumps, startled. Derek pulls back his hand swiftly. The sobbing stopped. Stiles looks at him through the water blurring his eyes. He scrutinises Derek with a frown on his face.

\- You’re not alone Stiles. I know we never really got on. To you, I’m probably just an asshole werewolf who ruined everyone’s life. I guess you’d rather have never met me but here I am and …I think I can help. I’m not good with words but I can listen and it seems like you need someone to talk to. You might not want to speak to me but, anyway… I want you to know that I’m here.

He never heard Derek talk this much before and he keeps thinking the Nogitsune banged his head really hard and messed up his whole emotionless surface. On the other hand though, he likes when Derek talks, especially when he talks to him with this caring voice. It’s soft and milky. He wants to bath in it. Curl up in the soothing words and take a nap.His mouth covered by his hoodie, he sighs:

\- You, dumbass …  
\- W… What ?  
\- Seriously Derek, this is bullshit!

Derek pulls away a little, surprised and a bit ...hurt. But Stiles gets closer and, looking him straight in the eyes, keeps going:

\- Just an asshole werewolf? Did you forget what you said just five minutes ago? You were the only one able to reach me and to break the hold. It wasn’t my best friend, my father or my childhood crush, it was you! And after that you play martyr and say I might never want you in my life?

Derek's mouth hangs open. Stiles is all up in his face, he can see the speck of copper in his left eye, he can feel his hot breath on his lips. He smells like vodka, anxiety and exhaustion. Stiles’s voice gets lower and it makes his stomach feel all warm:

-Talking to you, knowing that you care… that you understand...it feels better than I’ve felt in weeks. Everyone else tiptoes around me. They’re so worried… the only way to reassure them is to not mention any of it. I'm supposed to be over it, just pretend I don’t think about it anymore, that I don’t have horrible nightmares and moments where I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t wanna to face this alone.

With the last words he moves away again and bangs the back of his head softly on the wall. Once, twice, harder. He presses his eyelids shut but that’s no use, the tears are flowing again.

This time Derek puts his hand firmly on his arm.

\- You won’t. I’m here.

Stiles puts his hand on top of Derek’s, he tries to let go of the aching pain in his chest, he tries to breathe regularly, to focus on the warmth of the body against his, on Derek’s fingers wrapped around his wrist and how nice it feels.  
They stay like this, pressed together. They stay for ages. They stay until the tears dry out and the noise of the party leaves room to the silence of the night.  
A werewolf never gets cold but a drunk teenager certainly does. Stiles shivers under the light breeze and Derek puts his arms around his body, radiating warmth.  
Right when he thinks he’s asleep, his eyes flutter and he stands up brusquely.

-I... I should go home . The sun is rising … Everyone is gone …my dad …

He's shaking once again, tries to get to the door and trips on his own feet. Derek catches him before his head hits the wall.

\- You’re not driving Stiles. You’re drunk and I’m not letting you out of here in this state.  
\- But …I’m tired, I need to go home! I can’t stay here!  
\- Why not?  
\- Are you inviting me to a sleepover, Derek? Are we gonna cuddle on the couch? Are you gonna make me hot cocoa?

He laughs. A dry, bitter laugh with no happiness in it. He’s uneasy, embarrassed. An anxious ball of nerves. Derek leads him inside the loft, keeping a blank face:

\- You bet your ass I will, now let me just get the matching onesies…

Stiles looks at him, astonished. You can pinpoint the moment where the image of Derek’s muscular body wrapped in a onesie comes to his mind and the laughter explodes out of him. Uncontrollable, drunk and messy laughter.

The loft is chaos. There are people sleeping on the sofa, on the floor and pretty much every surface available. Derek keeps walking. His arm steadying Stiles drunken steps. They climb up the staircase difficulty between the injured leg and the vodka. Once in the bedroom Stiles just lets himself drop on the bed face first.

\- You’d better undress , your clothes smell like cigarettes and alcohol. It stinks. You also need to shower and drink some water.

Stiles snorts.

\- What happened to you , Derek Hale?  
\- What do you mean?  
\- What happened to the grumpy , aggressive you ? You’re smiling, laughing, making jokes and you’re... way too nice.

He breathes heavily and the werewolf can sense his heart beating irregularly. He lifts his head resting on his elbow to stare at the alpha.

\- I liked the old you. Not that I don’t like the new you but, you know, I miss the time when you scared the shit out of me. The time when werewolves were the creepiest thing in my life. Sure I was scared but I was so excited … I didn’t even know I could be possessed by a freaking Japanese fox who would mess with my head.

He rolls over staring at the ceiling and rubs his face like he wants to bury his eyes inside of his skull. Derek sits beside him and carefully reaches for his hands, taking them away from his face.

\- Stiles… you’re gonna be ok.  
\- How do you know that? I don’t have what it takes to keep going like this… I can’t do this.

Every part of his body is shaking violently. He shuts his eyes, his breathing is shallow and uneven. Derek inches closer to him, towering over him, he puts a steady hand on his chest.

\- You need to breathe Stiles. You drank too much. Your heart is trying to jump out of your chest.  
\- I can’t … God … I’m so cold … I can’t stop shaking …

Stiles eyes looks for his, he tries to pull himself up, he can’t catch his breath. The panic sets in. Tears wet his face. He pulls on his shirt like he’s trying to take it off. Derek can hear the blood pumping frantically against his temples, the breaths catching in his throat. He looks terrified he claws at the werewolf’s shirt.

Stiles, you’re ok. I’m here. Everything is ok. 

Derek can’t help the tiny growl from his wolf, desperate to protect Stiles from this threat he cannot see. He helps him sit up. Stiles reaches out for him, his cold fingers wrapping around his arm. He carefully moves closer to him, studying each of his reactions. He wraps one arm around his waist and the other comes to hold the back of his head. He wills himself to breathe as deeply as possible, their chests touching. Soon enough Stiles’s breath starts mimicking his. Without thinking he start tracing soothing motions on the back of Stiles neck. Sweat is making curls of hairs stick to his skin.

-You’re alright. You’re fine.I’m right here. You are safe. I’m not gonna leave you...

Stiles can feel waves of calm and warmth emanating from the body wrapped around his, he nests his head in the crook of Derek’s neck. His eyes firmly shut. He focuses on his breathing like he’s done so many times before. His heart slows down gradually, his breathing becomes easier although a sharp pain has settled in the middle of his chest. The panic slowly leaves his body, leaving room for a banging headache. He’s never come down from a panic attack so easily. Derek’s words resonate in his head, a part of him wants to stay like this forever, in the safe refuge of the alpha's warm arms, his face pressed against his throat. He can feel Derek’s stubble on the side of his face. The little circles he traces on his back. He listens to his heartbeat.

\- I'm sorry.  
\- Don’t apologize.

They stay like this for a while until Derek can't take it anymore:

\- Are you really gonna not gonna shower? You smell terrible.

He feels Stiles chuckles against his chest before pulling away and sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s embarrassed. Derek clears his throat.

Let me get you a towel and something to sleep in. 

He leaves the bedroom and Stiles takes the opportunity to finally look around. The bedsheets are immaculately white and they feel like butter between his fingers. He’s so tired. But his head is spinning and his mouth is dry and sticky. He wants to scrub the alcohol out of his skin. There’s a gorgeous fig tree plant in the corner and a beautiful print of a misty forest landscape above a large grey armchair. His toes graze a fluffy dark blue rug and on the bedside table a copper and glass lamp bathes him into a warm glow. He never put Derek Hale down as an interior design fan but he must admit this looks pretty great.   
The door creaks a bit when the werewolf comes back in, throwing him a big soft white towel, a pair of soft cotton shorts and a tee shirt.   
Stiles thanks him and gets in the shower. He feels dizzy and slightly nauseous. He’s very conscious of how drunk he is and now regrets all the alcohol he ingested. He lets the hot water pummel his face. He forces himself not to overthink everything that happened in the past few hours. Keeping his anxiety barely at bay. Reluctantly he steps out of the shower and dries himself.   
When he comes out of the ensuite Derek is wearing a balck tee shirt and some cotton shorts similar to the one he lent him. He ends him a bottle of cold water that Stiles gulps down as well as an ibuprofen pill. He feels giddy looking at Derek Hale in his cute bedroom wearing soft pyjamas. He smiles to himself and climbs awkwardly on the bed. The comforter feels like a cloud on top of his body and the bedsheets are fresh and smooth against his skin.

I can’t believe I’m sleeping in the same bed as Derek Hale…

He lets out a chuckle that makes the alpha roll his eyes. 

\- Don't worry about that, I'll be sleeping in the chair. You’ve got the whole bed for yourself, please don’t get sick in it.

There's a silence and Stiles opens his eyes, he swallows :

\- Really?  
\- Yes, really. Now sleep.

Derek turns off the light, settles on the chair and covers himself with a blanket. He closes his eyes, focusing on Stiles heartbeat. That doesn't slow down. It speeds up. His breathing gets uneven and he tosses around the bed. Derek can’t help but feel alarmed, worried that another panic attack might happen.

-Stiles. Stop thinking just sleep.  
\- Yeah ok...

It’s obvious that he cannot relax. The alcohol makes him feel sick and he hasn’t been sleeping properly in months. His mind is filled with anxious thoughts and even though his body is exhausted the last thing he wants is to give in and sleep.

\- Derek?  
\- What?  
\- Could you maybe? … Can you please? ...Nevermind, forget it.

Derek takes a second then sighs. He gets up and walks to the bed. Stiles feels the mattress dip and the duvet being lifted then the warmth of the Alpha’s body radiates against his back. At first his heartbeat spikes as Derek gets closer to him but as soon as his large hand comes to rest on his chest and his strong arm envelops him he feels a wave of calm wash over him. His muscles relax and the slow repetitive thud of Derek’s heartbeat against his ribcage lulls him to sleep. After a moment he begins to breathe more slowly, getting to a calm, relaxed pace. The werewolf stays awake until Stiles starts snoring peacefully before letting himself relax too and drift off.


End file.
